


i can't help falling in love with you

by RottenKidNextDoor (PortalofWords)



Category: Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: M/M, United States of Auradon (Disney) Is Not Perfect, jay is in love with carlos, jay-centric, jealous!jay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-31 07:56:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21442825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PortalofWords/pseuds/RottenKidNextDoor
Summary: “carlos… it’s different here.”“doesn’t have to be.”orjay struggles with adjusting to life in auradon, especially when a certain freckled roommate claims to have a date.
Relationships: Jay/Carlos de Vil
Comments: 18
Kudos: 230





	i can't help falling in love with you

**Author's Note:**

> hi guys ! i know it's been awhile since i posted! enjoy this little ficlet while i work on some longer pieces !

Jay isn’t gay. 

He’s not straight either, but apparently - in Auradon - those are the only two categories a person can fall into. He’s either gay - eceentric, flamboyant, someone the older royals sniff at - or straight - normal, everyday, accepted. There is no inbetween, and that’s bullshit. 

  
  


\--

  
  


“Rumor has it that you and that blonde cheerleader hooked up after Saturday’s win,” Chad says one afternoon after tourney practice, a towel slung low around his hips. “How’d she stack up against - well, against the rest of them?” 

His face hidden in his locker, Jay allows himself to make a face for a moment. His conquests. Chad means to say his conquests. And he isn’t wrong. Jay has more notches in his belt than the rest of the team combined, but that’s just _ the way things have to be. _So he simply slams his locker shut and tosses Chad a wild, cocky grin. 

“Real flexible, Chad,” he laughs. “All those cheerleaders are fucking flexible, if you know what I mean.” 

  
  


\---

  
  


“I swear,” Jay bangs on the bathroom door in their dorm for the hundredth time. “How long does it take someone to piss? I gotta grab my toothbrush! Open up!” He will never get used to the idea that bedrooms in Auradon have _ private _ bathrooms with _ locks. _Yet another luxury the kids here seem to take for granted.

Carlos comes out, still in the process of zipping his fly. “You know, it wasn’t locked,” he shrugs. “You could’ve just come in.” 

Jay doesn’t know why, but the thought makes him flush. 

\---

  
  


Jay knows how much Carlos dislikes tourney. But it’s Carlos, and he knows the guy has been bred to suffer through rather than to quit, to shove his own wants away, to ignore his discomfort. And sure, those things sound bad, but they’ve kept him alive, haven’t they? That’s another thing the people here won’t ever be able to wrap their minds around; sometimes, they just did what they had to do to wake up the next morning. Moral or not, right or wrong, the only reason they’d even been around to get invited to Auradon in the first place is because of those basic instincts. 

And on the off chance Jay does catch himself thinking about what he could’ve done back home to protect Carlos from the island, he stops. Protection wouldn’t have saved him. Carlos didn’t need protection; it wouldn’t have mattered how many times Jay had shown up, Cruella would’ve hit him that much harder. 

Despite all that, though, Jay wishes he had the balls to tell Carlos to stop coming to practice if he hates it so much. This is Auradon, and that means Carlos has been given some semblance of choice, even if he’s not aware of how to take it. If Jay ever found it in himself to encourage his roommate to join cheerleading or dance or something he might actually _ enjoy _, Carlos might listen. But so far, Jay hasn’t said a word. And he doesn’t really know why.

He’s allowed himself to mull it over occasionally, flipping through possible reasons for postponing the discussion, but all the answers he’s settled upon make his heart beat quickly, and he doesn’t have time for that. 

“You’re getting better,” Jay says to Carlos that afternoon, panting as they finish a drill together. 

That’s the first reason he settled on for keeping quiet:_ I wouldn’t have anyone to partner up with _ . Which is bullshit, because it’s not like the other guys _ wouldn’t _ toss a ball around between their sticks with him. It’s more that Jay wouldn’t want to do it with _ them. _

“Sure,” Carlos laughs, out of breath. “I only dropped the thing fifteen times instead of sixteen. Pretty sure that’s a new record. Better get Coach.” 

And Jay laughs. Because it’s funny. Carlos is funny. 

That’s the second reason: _ he makes me laugh. _

“Nah, I’m serious.” Jay grins wider, throwing a sweaty arm over his shoulder just to see his freckled nose wrinkle in disgust. “You’re the fastest guy on the team, de Vil.” 

And when Carlos’ nose crinkles up as predicted - whining dramatically about him reeking and needing a shower and to _ get off - _Jay tries not to dwell on the deep laugh that rises from his chest. 

Because that’s the third reason he doesn’t want Carlos to quit tourney - no matter how selfish, no matter how much he hates it: _ because I like him here. I would miss him. _

\---

  
  


“You ever think about the Isle?” Mal is stretched out on the grass, her abandoned Ethics of Magical Beings textbook face down beside her. 

Jay stares up at the perfectly blue sky against the perfectly vibrant trees and shrugs. “In what way?” 

Mal doesn’t speak for a moment, but when she finally does, her answer doesn’t surprise him. “In a fucked-up home sort of way?” 

“Sure.” It’s easier to admit it to Mal, Mal who used to sit beside him on the roof and swing her legs while they watched fights break out on the dusty road below; Mal who likes the taste of stale popcorn and hard cider just as much as he does; Mal who doesn’t look at him funny when he says something he’s not supposed to like about fathers who don’t love their sons or carpets under shelves instead of beds.

“Do you,” Mal pauses again, her fingers tapping silently against the plush ground beneath her. “Do you ever miss… things about it? Not everything, of course. Just… some things?”

“Freedom.” Jay says it without thinking, without realizing the word was trapped in his chest. “I miss the freedom. The labels here are…”

He never finishes the sentence, but maybe Mal doesn’t need him to. 

\---

  
  


Auradon likes to celebrate. 

Big things, like Coronations and weddings and holidays. But also little things, Jay is learning, like birthdays and Friday nights and tourney victories. 

The tourney team celebrates with pumpkin juice and pizza - usually in Chad or Ben’s dorm - and Jay doesn’t mind; the food is good, the drinks sometimes get spiked, and it’s definitely his kind of scene. 

“Here,” Chad passes him a cold cup of pumpkin juice from the cooler with a wink. “These have got a little extra something tonight.”

Jay takes a sip. Probably vodka - something cheap. He still prefers island cider, but the taste is almost drowned by the strength of the pumpkin anyway, so he doesn’t complain. 

Across the room, his eyes fall on Carlos for some reason - still in his oversized jersey and sitting on the couch. He’s got one elbow resting on his knee, chin propped on his hand, gazing off with a sort of peaceful, dreamy expression. There’s a roaring fire lit in the hearth, and it casts dancing, golden shadows across his face. 

“Earth to Jay,” a voice on his left laughs, tapping his shoulder. It’s Ben, his crown forgotten - if only for the night. It’s nice to see him act like a teenager; too often he’s been forced into this pretend adulthood, a mask of responsibility and maturity that Jay can see right through. “You good?” 

“Just enjoying whatever’s in this pumpkin juice,” Jay answers, clapping him on the shoulder And really, he feels pretty good. 

“Ah.” Ben gives him one of his classic smiles, laced with awkwardness and too-many-manners. “I had a quick question. About Carlos. Is he seeing anyone? Jane was asking about him earlier.” 

Jay’s eyes flick back to the boy on the couch, who’s still lost in his own little world. One white curl has fallen into his face, but he’s yet to brush it away. Funny enough, Jay’s fingers tingle, like they want to reach out and do it for him. 

His good mood is gone suddenly - the vodka definitely seeping through the pumpkin juice now and tasting bitter on his tongue. 

“Dunno,” Jay says coldly. “You’ll have to ask him.” 

\--- 

  
  


“Carlos,” Evie says at lunch, her bright eyes keen and ever-observant. “Ben told me he asked you something important last night. Care to share?” 

Carlos continues to eat, his ears only turning the slightest shade of red. “Sure. It’s no big deal. He just wanted to know what I thought about Jane.” 

_ Jane _. Jay thinks Jane is a rather boring name. It’s plain. Uninteresting. Dull. 

“And?” Evie leans forward, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly. Jay gets the sudden feeling that she knows what Carlos is about to say.

“And nothing.” Carlos takes another bite of salad. “I told him a king was much more my type than Fairy Godmother’s Daughter. He seemed pretty excited about that.” 

\--- 

  
  


“Why aren’t you talking to me?” Carlos demands. 

Jay hates it when his voice gets all steely like it is now. It makes it so much harder to stay angry with him when he sounds so attractive. 

Except, he corrects himself, he’s not angry. At least not at him. Jay doesn’t entirely know why he feels like this; he just does. And he knows he’s being an ass, ignoring Carlos and all. But for some reason, Jay isn’t ready to stop. 

“Jay!” Carlos practically growls it. And then, his tone changes. His voice drops low, almost hoarse. “I thought you knew I was gay.” 

“Ah, Christ.” Jay really does have to turn around now, if just so Carlos can see how ridiculous that statement is. “Of course I knew.” 

“Then, what?” Carlos asks, hands on hips. “You have a problem with me wanting to date a guy? Is that it? I can be gay just so long as I don’t _ show _it?” 

But Jay doesn’t have an answer to that one. He has no problem with Carlos liking boys; in fact, he’s known for years. This isn’t a surprise. Still, there’s something burning in the back of his mind - like the tourney reasons; hidden, almost forgettable.

It’s Ben he’s got a problem with, Jay finally decides. It’s not Carlos. It’s Ben. 

“It’s not you!” he spits, trying to make the words fit together coherently. Somehow his jumbled up emotions have passed the trait on to his sentences. “You just - you can do so much better than him.” 

“Than the king?” Carlos arches his eyebrow. 

_ Yeah, _ Jay wants to say. _ Yeah, you can. _

But he doesn’t. 

\---

Friday night. 

Apparently, Friday night is going to be the night. Ben has invited Carlos to the movies, and the two of them are going to leave at eight o’clock and head downtown in one of the royal limousines. Or something. Jay wasn’t entirely listening when Carlos told him earlier that morning. 

_ Fuck Friday nights, _ Jay kicks his locker shut, leaving a black scuff mark and a dent in the bottom. The sound echoes across the locker room walls, and Jay likes it. _ Fuck Auradon and their stupid rules. Fuck their movies. Fuck their kings. _

_ Or don’t. Please don’t. _

\---

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” 

Mal is the one who searches him out, finding his not-so-secret retreat. He’s slamming tourney balls by the dozen into the back of the net, alone on one end of the field. Practice is long over, the team showered and gone, but Jay isn’t ready to go back to the dorm. 

Friday. It’s Friday. 

And he knows _ all too well _ what he’ll find (or rather, who he _ won’t _find and why). 

“What?” Jay looks up, too worked up to even bother wiping the sweat dripping down his neck and forehead. 

“I said, you’re ridiculous,” Mal repeats, shaking her head. “Honestly, for someone so observant, you’d think you would’ve picked up on it by now.” 

“On what?” Jay can already feel his anger rising, the flames in his chest about to ignite on his tongue. Mal has come just to piss him off, it seems. Just perfect. “If you’re gonna be cryptic, just leave me the hell alone.”

“Oh, pull yourself together,” Mal huffs, turning to go. “Go back to your room, Jay. This is pathetic. Absolutely pathetic.” Just before she walks away, she pauses and adds, “you know, just because Auradon says you can’t be both doesn’t mean you aren’t.” 

\---

The dorm room isn’t empty. 

Carlos is sitting on his bed, headphones on and Dude in his lap. At first glance, someone might think he’s hard at work - typing away on his computer - but Jay has grown to recognize the rhythm Carlos’ fingers make when he’s really working. There’s a cadence, a beat, and at the moment, the rhythm is disjointed. Jay wonders if the computer is even turned on at all. 

“Don’t you have a date?” Jay asks, standing in the doorway. 

Carlos glances up at him, his face stony for some reason. For a brief, selfish moment, Jay wonders if Ben blew him off.

“Don’t you have something else to kick?” Carlos shoots back, cutting off Jay’s rising protests with an irritated huff. “Oh, don’t play stupid with me. You’ve been slamming things around all day. Just get out of here, Jay. I’m not in the mood to deal with your bullshit.” 

“_ My bullshit?” _Jay can feel his temper growing hot. “You’re the one who’s supposed to be sucking some royal dick or something right now! What, did you decide to move it here instead? Am I going to interrupt your little -”

“There is no date!” Carlos shouts, gathering Dude into his arms and standing. “No date, Jay! Never has been!”

“But you told -”

“Ben that I was gay,” Carlos hisses. “That’s it. Didn’t ask him out, and he sure as hell didn’t ask me out. I told him to tell Jane I’m not interested in her. And that’s it.” 

A strange emptiness fills Jay’s veins where red, blinding anger had been surging only a few seconds before. Carlos had lied about Ben. He had messed with Jay’s emotions for absolutely nothing. He’d been planning to stay in their dorm all evening, just like that, on his computer with his dog while Jay had a meltdown. “Why the hell did you lie to me?” 

“Let’s call it an experiment.” Carlos’ voice is still cold and cutting, his words whipping across Jay’s face. “Just testing something.” 

“Testing what?” 

But Carlos doesn’t answer - he just stalks out of the room. Just before the door clicks behind him, there’s the sound of something like a sob. 

\---

  
  


Jay feels like shit. 

His legs are slow; his mind is even slower. He missed two perfect shots on goal during tourney practice earlier today, and now his entire body feels like it’s been hit by a truck. He’s not used to feeling _ heavy; _ Jay is light, quick - a wily thief, a seducer, a charmer. Even after some of the worst fights back on the island, he never went down _ this _hard. 

It doesn’t help that every time he closes his eyes, all Jay sees is Carlos’ shoulders slumping as he left their room last night. 

“It’s funny,” Evie says, startling him back to the present. She’s sitting beside him, book open on her lap - staring across the grass at Mal - who is spray painting across a row of lockers to her heart’s content. Jay knows she’ll get detention for it, but she never minds; it’s a soothing reminder of where they’d come from. “It’s like they expect everyone to have a label here. To fit perfectly under one tiny little word. Good. Bad. Gay. Straight. Male. Female.”

“Yeah, funny.” Jay doesn’t think it’s funny at all. In fact, now that Evie is voicing the issue, he realizes just how tense his shoulders and chest have been for weeks. “Do you think you fit? Under those labels, I mean?” 

Evie just shrugs. “I’ve been striving for perfection my entire life, but somehow, I keep falling short.” 

Momentarily pulled away from his own petty drama, Jay wraps a comforting arm around her. “You? Falling short?” He gives her a teasing grin, squeezing her shoulder. “Not in those heels, Princess.” 

Jay detects something else lacing her words, something important; but he’s too tired to work it out. 

\---

  
  
  


“Pass me the goddamn remote,” Jay says for the hundredth time, pointing to the TV remote resting near Carlos’ elbow. 

Carlos doesn’t move. It’s his turn to do the ignoring, apparently. Except Carlos is more stubborn than he will ever be, and the boy had barely spoken three words to him during the past forty-eight hours.

After a few moments of silence, Jay stalks across the room and snatches the remote up himself. He kicks the table as he passes, but it doesn’t do much except hurt his toe like a bitch.

For a second, it looks like Carlos is going to say something - perhaps about his probably-broken toe - but he apparently decides against it because he turns back to his physics homework without a word. 

And beneath the anger sizzling on Jay’s skin and in his brain, something aches. He misses Carlos’ smile; he misses his laugh, and his sarcastic little comments. Mostly, he just misses his best friend. 

But Jay shuts his mouth tight, sealing it against those words - words that could lead to admitting _ weakness. _

Not him. Not Jay. Jay - son of Jafar - is many things; but he isn’t weak. 

  
  


\---

  
  


“Okay, this has been going on for too long,” Mal says finally. “Evie and I have tried to be subtle and cryptic and you’re just - wow, you’re so fucking thick, Jay.” 

The accusation comes out of nowhere. Jay looks up from his breakfast, blinking. “Huh?”

“All this sexual tension between you and Spotty.” Mal shakes her head, clearly peeved. “Honestly, it’s been going on for _years, _so one of you needs to grow some goddamn balls already. I’m fucking tired of these unspoken _feelings_ between you two. I hate feelings. I don’t do feelings. Just… kiss him or suck his dick or do something to make this better.” She stabs her eggs violently, skewering the yolk on her fork. 

Jay stares at her. “With me and de Vil?” He doesn’t know why his face is heating up; there isn’t anything between him and Carlos. Sure, they wrestle and tease each other, and - up until recently - have had a pretty good friendship streak for two island boys. And he’d be lying if he said he’s _ never _ noticed Carlos like that occasionally because, really, Carlos is a good looking kid, and he’s done quite a bit of growing up here in Auradon. With his freckles and long lashes, Carlos is pretty cute - almost beautiful - and they’ve shared a room long enough that Jay doesn’t have to guess what’s hiding under his clothes anymore. 

But all of those thoughts are purely hormonal. They _ have _ to be. Because Auradon doesn’t do “just sex.” Here, sex is treated as something sacred. Something private. Something romantic. And that means him admiring Carlos becomes something _ more _ \- something serious. 

Jay’s never been in love and reckons he’ll never ever be that stupid. He sleeps around; he flirts with girls; he takes their jewelry. He fits under that accepted label here - the straight, cocky playboy one. 

“I’m not in love with Carlos,” Jay finally mumbles, shoving his tray away. 

From the way Mal scoffs and rolls her eyes, it’s clear she doesn’t believe him. 

\---

  
  


“Mal thinks we’re in love,” Jay says as he bangs the door open to their dorm. Carlos turns around, his eyes widening. 

Only after several beats does Jay realize the boy is only halfway into a shirt. The stripe of exposed, freckled skin does nothing to ease the battle in Jay’s mind. Carlos slowly pulls the white t-shirt over his head, his feet unmoving as if frozen to the floor, and Jay watches, bewitched. 

“Do -” Carlos wets his lips nervously. “Do you always stare at your friends while they get dressed?” 

“Haven’t made a habit of it, yet,” Jay responds in a low voice, barely registering that this is the first non-hostile interaction with Carlos de Vil in days. Something twinges inside him, relishing that small glimpse of Carlos’ usual playful snark. “But I could if you want me to.” 

The light in Carlos’ eyes flares for a moment before dimming, returning to the almost dull nature reminiscent of the past week. “Whatever.”

“I take it you’re still mad at me,” Jay winces, waiting for an answer. 

“Yes.” Carlos shrugs, sitting on the edge of the bed to pull on a pair of socks.

“I don’t even know what I did.” Jay knows he’s bad at apologies, but he can feel one creeping up on him anyway. 

“That makes it worse.” Carlos’ shoulders slump some, and he shakes his head. “You really have no idea?”

Jay racks his brain, desperately trying to latch onto _ something. _“I was… angry. About you and Ben?” 

“Angry?” Carlos folds his arms, glaring at him. “You treated me like shit. All because you thought I was gonna go see a movie with the king. Just a movie, Jay!”

“You lied about that!” 

“And you’re a selfish coward!” Carlos shouts back. “You don’t want me, but you also don’t want anyone else to have me! All because you’re too scared of someone figuring out you like boys, too.” 

Jay is stunned. He’s aware of a rushing in his ears and the way his heartbeat seems to get louder with every passing second. He swallows - or tries to, anyway - but finds it suddenly much too difficult. “Wh -” he clears his throat. “What did you just say?”

“Nothing.” Carlos is turning away from him now, sliding his boots out from their neat spot under the bed and unlacing them. “Just forget it.” 

Taking a step closer, Jay finally remembers how to breathe. He sucks in a huge gulp and nearly chokes on it. Coughing, he waits until his airway is sort of clear before attempting to talk again. “N - no,” he wheezes. “Dude, that’s not - just - fuck - sorry.” 

“You good?” Carlos raises an eyebrow, listening to him cough. 

“Too much air,” Jay gasps finally, wiping his eyes. “I’m fine. I just don’t -”

“You don’t like me,” Carlos finishes, turning back to the boots. “I misread the situation. My bad.” 

It’s what Jay had been preparing to say. It’s what he _ has _ to say. But seeing the look on Carlos’ face - crumpled, but resigned; like he’s _ expecting _ it - stirs the thoughts he’s shoved away for so long. So instead, he says wildly, “You wanna know the reason I never wanted you to quit tourney?”

Looking wary, Carlos shrugs. “Because you’re selfish?”

“Because I’m selfish.” Jay runs a hand through his hair. “I’m so fucking selfish, Carlos. I wanted you to be there… because I like hanging out with you. I think you’re cool. I didn’t want to go to practice alone. I didn’t want to miss you. And - yeah, fuck, somehow I ended up pushing you away anyway, and now I’m missing you all the same. And if I was a good friend, I would’ve told you to do something you loved. Like dance or… or maybe cheerleading. Science. Fuck, I dunno, anything that doesn’t involve hormonal boys crashing into each other.” 

Carlos is silent for a long while, watching him. “I really fucking hate tourney,” he says at last, his lips twisting into a grimace or a laugh - Jay isn’t quite sure. “But you wanna know why I stayed?” He pauses, shaking his head. “For you. Cause I like spending time with you, too. You know, even if you are a hormonal boy crashing into me. There are worse things, I guess.” 

Jay shifts from foot to foot, wondering how on earth the strong, impenetrable walls he’s spent so long building could suddenly be on the brink of collapse. The words he’s pushed down and pinned back for so long beat against his tongue, desperate for release. “I think I like you.” Jay says it so quickly the words are almost indistinguishable from each other. “And that’s - that’s a problem. Because liking someone at all is a problem for me. But mostly because you’re _ you. _ And you’re not - a girl I can steal from and forget about. If I hurt you, I hurt _ you, _and apparently I have a talent for that, and -” 

“Stop,” Carlos cuts in, still staring. “Stop. Christ. You… like me? I didn’t get that wrong?” 

“You never get anything wrong,” Jay mutters, suddenly unable to meet his eye. “You’re a genius, remember?” 

“With computers, maybe.” Carlos’ flat voice had a new tinge to it, and if Jay didn’t know better, he’d say it was almost hopeful. “But emotions? People? They’re not like machines; they’re unpredictable. Well, mostly. You were pretty predictable when I told you about my ‘date’ with Ben.” 

Jay rubs the back of his neck, his face heating up for some reason. “I shouldn’t have flipped out at you.” 

“No,” Carlos agrees with a shrug. “You shouldn’t have. And I shouldn’t have lied to you, I guess, even for an experiment.”

“What was the experiment?” Jay can’t help being a little curious. “To see if I’d get mad?”

“More or less,” Carlos admits. “I just wanted to gauge your reaction because… well… I knew you were trying so hard to be these people’s version of normal ever since we arrived. I thought… if I could make you jealous - it would prove that you felt some sort of way for me. I dunno, it seemed smarter at the time.”

Jay sucks in his breath, shrugging. He doesn’t quite know how to respond to all that. On the island, there were no labels. Back then, he never worried about which marks he took to bed or what went on inside their pants. “Carlos… it’s different here.” 

“Doesn’t have to be.”

It sounds good - to finally stop worrying about what everyone’s gonna think. To stop trying to be like everyone else here. To finally stop messing around with those goddamn cheerleaders and telling Chad every little slick detail at practice. 

“Yeah.” Jay’s voice is uncharacteristically hoarse. “You really should quit tourney.” It’s a stupid thing to say; he should be saying something romantic or bold or anything he usually pulls out to sweep people off their feet. 

“Maybe.” Carlos stares at him. His leg is bouncing erratically. Suddenly, blurts out, “Uh, Jay, do you wanna be - go out with me - you know, like boyfriends or whatever. I dunno.” 

Something inside Jay leaps. It makes sense now. All the anger and jealousy - 

_ Jealousy, _ he marvels. _ How did I not see I was jealous? _

“Yeah!” God, he sounds too eager. “I mean - yeah. I do, ‘Los. We can… go out. Or something.” 

Carlos stands up now, coming closer. Jay isn’t used to all this… confession shit. Most of his hookups haven’t wanted to listen to him talk unless it involved him getting naked at the same time. Right now, he isn’t sure if Carlos is looking for a dramatic kiss or just… a hug. 

As Carlos reaches him, the freckled boy wraps his arms around Jay - resting his head in the crook of his neck and pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses there. For some reason, it feels more intimate than all the makeout sessions and dirty sheets in the world. 

“_ I’m sorry,” _Jay whispers roughly, barely audible - holding him closer than ever before.

“For what?” 

“_ For taking so long.” _

Jay doesn’t think he’s ever been in love, but maybe it feel sort of like this. 

He might be in love with Carlos de Vil. 

And he likes it. 

  
  



End file.
